


Two Become One

by totheendoftheworldortime79



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Priest Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheendoftheworldortime79/pseuds/totheendoftheworldortime79
Summary: Priest!Killian AU. Father Killian Jones enjoys sinning with a certain bailbondswoman. A lot.





	1. Tidings of Joy

**Author's Note:**

> The priest AU that began in the Long Nights Collection. I took it out to post it as its own story. 4 parts, but I always resolve to revisit when the inspiration strikes. Enjoy!

Killian scrubbed his hands over his face. Midnight Mass was in two hours, but it might as well be two _minutes_. In his distracted state, he was sure to mess something up. He'd participated in the Mass several times since taking his vows, would have sworn he could do it in his sleep. But that was before. Before he'd come to this parish, before he'd broken his vows, before he met a certain blonde siren.

Not that any of this was her fault. He was the one with a sacred vow. He was the one who fantasized about her. He was the one who couldn't control himself.

He was lucky he believed in a God who forgave.

He got up from his desk and found his Bible. Despite his guilt, he could still draw comfort from its pages. A reminder of what he was to be celebrating was all he needed. He absolutely would not check his phone to see if a certain lass had left him a message or three.

Sitting in the comfortable leather armchair, Killian flipped to Matthew's version of the Christmas story; it was his favorite. The logical part of his mind recognized the inconsistencies, but faith wasn't based in logic. He'd struggled with that in seminary, thought he had a handle on it.

Then Emma had come along and had him questioning everything he ever believed in.

He huffed, mentally cursing himself. He had to stop this. He hadn't seen her, been with her, in more than a week. Perhaps she'd finally lost interest, gotten her thrill from corrupting a man of God and moved on. That would probably be best for both of them. One indiscretion (or twelve, but who was counting?) and he could get things back on track. No one had to know.

His phone rang, and his heart dropped. That ringtone belonged to only one person. He jumped up, Bible spilling to the floor as he rushed to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hey,” came the sultry voice on the other end. Killian moved to the door and shut it with a soft click, flipping the lock out of habit. “You busy?”

“Preparing for mass,” he said casually, like he wasn't on pins and needles.

“It's at midnight, right?”

“Aye. Father Cartwright is doing the Vigil.”

“Leaving Father Jones for the big show?” Emma asked. He could practically feel her smirk through the phone.

He scratched behind his ear. “Something like that.”

“Maybe I'll come by, check it out.”

He inhaled sharply. “Come? _Here?”_

“Mass is typically held _in_ the church,” she deadpanned. “It's not like I don't know my way around, Father Jones.”

He bit his lip. The way she said “Father Jones” always got his pulse racing. “You really want to come?”

She laughed, a warm rich sound. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

He chuckled too, realizing too late his double entendre. “Perhaps I would.”

He heard her make a little mewling sound; he bit back a groan. It was ridiculous how easily she could get to him. He was supposed to be a man of God, but with her he was simply Killian. “I want to come,” she said slowly. “So, so bad, Father.”

He flopped down in the leather chair once more, her words going straight to his groin. “Would you like some help, my child?”

“Please,” she whispered. “You're the only one who can.”

“Fuck, I've missed you,” he groaned. “What are you wearing, lass?”

“I just got out of the shower, so a towel,” she replied. “I'm still wet.”

He groaned, the picture clear in his mind. Their trysts hadn't given him much opportunity to explore her nude form, but he'd seen enough. “Couldn't wait?”

“No. And I wanted you to know I was coming.”

“You're not yet,” he shot back, the heel of his hand rubbing his crotch.

“So do something about it, Father Jones.”

“Spread your legs,” he demanded softly. The walls of his office were fairly thick, but he wasn't taking any chances. “Are you wet there, love? Do you wish I was there to pleasure you?”

Emma shivered, her thighs falling open. She stroked the length of her slit, his voice more than enough to arouse her. It was what she'd dreamed of for weeks before finally taking matters into her own hands and giving them what they both wanted. “Yes,” she breathed.

Killian yanked open his belt and opened his fly. He groaned as his cock sprang free, hard and heavy in his hand. “Always so wet for me, lass. Your taste...want to taste you, Emma. Will you let me?”

“Yes,” she hissed, leaning back and rubbing her clit. “Please, Father.”

“Patience. Always so greedy, lass.”

Emma growled into the phone. “Stop being smug and make me come!”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, still steadily rubbing. “I like you better.”

Killian groaned, tightening his grip on his cock. “Such a lovely cunt,” he purred. “Swollen and wet. Tight.”

Emma moaned; hearing the filthy words from his lips never failed to get her going. She slipped a finger inside her heat, whimpering. “Tell me you're as horny as I am,” she pleaded.

“Oh yes,” he replied. “It's been far too long since I've had you, Swan. You're all I can bloody think about.”

“Oh God.” She should feel bad about this, having phone sex with a priest. A priest she was planning on having actual sex with in a few hours time. But she couldn't stop. He called to her. “I need you,” she panted. “So much.”

“Bloody hell.” He swiped his thumb over his leaking tip, wishing it was her mouth on him instead. “Dreamed about you. Want you in my bed, lass. Writhing under me while I pump my cock into that tight sheath.”

Emma bit her lip, adding two more fingers, pumping them vigorously, imagining his cock. “Yes,” she cried. “Or bent over your desk. Or riding you in the confessional. Fuck, that was hot.”

Killian's hand moved faster, relishing in the memory. “Such a temptress, leading me astray.”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck yes. Come for me, Swan. Need to hear it.”

Emma cried out, walls fluttering around her fingers, thumb flicking her clit. She chanted his name over and over until she was spent, head falling back against the vanity. Killian moaned and cursed, his own orgasm coming in waves, thick ropes of his seed coating his hand, his slacks. He slumped back in the chair panting, both euphoric and sad. If he was going to sin, he wanted her there with him.

“Killian?” she asked, still a little breathless.

“I'm here, lass.”

“May I come to Mass tonight?”

He found himself nodding, before he realized she couldn't see him. “Aye. I'd love for you to be there, Swan.”

“And after?”

Shaking off fresh tendrils of guilt, he nodded again. “Please. I really was starting to think you'd forgotten me.”

“Sorry. Busy week. Maybe I'll tell you about it.”

“I'd like that.” Wanting her as he did was pretty much a one way ticket to hell, so why not do the thing properly? They hung up shortly after and Killian went to clean up. Perhaps he should invest in more pants.

* * *

 

As Mass approached, Killian adjusted his ceremonial robes. They were stuffy and hot, or perhaps it was simply him. He knew Emma would be in the crowd, watching his every move. Worse, he _wanted_ to see her. His distraction from earlier was gone; just knowing that she hadn't forgotten about him, still wanted him, did wonders for his concentration.

Just what kind of priest was he anyway?

One that was halfway in love with a woman who was prickly and willful and _beautiful_. Emma just had a light and it blinded him. He'd never gotten the same feeling of _rightness_ from the Church that he got in her arms.

He was so very, very screwed.

Promptly at midnight, he stepped out and began the service. Surreptitiously he scanned the crowd, searching for his Swan. It took him the better part of an hour (the congregation had been up and down about six times by then) but he finally found her. Her golden head was bowed respectfully; he caught a hint of a red dress. She looked very demure, even though he knew she was anything but. Emma was fiery and forthright, but innately kind and compassionate. She caught his eye at last, giving him a tiny smile. He schooled his features, returning her smile with a subtle nod.

With renewed vigor, he finished the ritual, waiting down at the rail to hand out communion. Emma was not among them, a blessing and a curse. If she'd come that close to him, he wasn't sure he could control his desire to touch her. Even a caress of her cheek would be wildly inappropriate. He forced himself to be patient, do his job, until the church emptied. He sighed heavily once he was alone once more. He needed to clean up before finding Emma. They had another service first thing in the morning and Father Cartwright would kill him if the Sanctuary wasn't spotless.

Killian loved the Lord but how many services did He need?

He was halfway to his office when a hand reached out and yanked him close. “What took you so long?” Emma murmured in his ear.

Killian immediately brought his hands to her waist; she was so warm through the fabric. “Straightening the Sanctuary,” he mumbled, trying to find her lips in the dark. But she eluded him, the minx.

“So fucking me there is out of the question?” she teased, biting his earlobe.

“Isn't enough that you've seduced a priest, Swan?”

She stroked his chest, cursing the layers. She liked his chest hair. “I thought you said you wanted me in your bed?” she purred.

“I want you everywhere,” he swore. “May the Lord forgive me.”

“Where's your bed?”

As one of the lower priests in the parish, he had a small cottage not far from the church. “Around the corner. It's not big.”

She cupped his cheek and finally, guided his lips to hers. He moaned into her kiss, his world righting in an instant. He pulled her in by the hips, arms wrapping around her lower back. Emma mewled against his lips, a wave of desire rolling through her. Good lord, the man could _kiss._

“Take me there,” she whispered. “And I'll take your confession, Father.”

He grinned; that was their code. In this...whatever it was, he was the sinner in need of forgiveness. And Emma was his absolution. He stole one final kiss from the shadows and led her first to his office, so he could ditch his robes. He hung them up carefully, trying not to stare at Emma too much. Her dress clung to her curves, falling to mid-thigh. It was just sedate enough for church, but the plunging neckline and long legs were more than enough to get his heart pumping. When he was finished, he shrugged into his thick coat. Emma wore a long trench coat, a scarf wrapped around her neck. They walked side by side but didn't hold hands or given any other indication that they were anything but priest and parishioner. It was very late, just after two in the morning, as they turned the corner to his cottage. He honestly never expected to be bringing Emma here, but who was he to argue?

It was dark; the neighborhood seemed to be asleep. He turned the key in the lock and let Emma slip inside. He followed, tossing his keys aside and hurriedly shrugging out of his coat. The cottage was tiny, but he was a priest and wasn't expected to have much in the way of earthly comforts. A living room, a kitchen, a single bedroom and a bathroom. That was all. Emma took it in, before reaching for his hand. He accepted it and guided her to the bedroom. Another door closed and locked and for the first time, they were entirely alone.

He stepped into her space, hands on her waist, then sliding up over her ribs. She leaned close, breath hot on his skin. “Yes?”

Killian licked at her throat. “Bless me, sweet Emma, for I have sinned.”

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

He grabbed her hips, bring her flush with his. “Eight days and four hours,” he bit out, grinding against her. “Too fucking long.”

Emma groaned, carding her fingers through his thick hair. “And what do you wish to confess?”

“Impure thoughts. Deeds. Filthy fantasies.”

She fingered his priest's collar, wetness pooling between her thighs. “Anything specific?”

“All kinds of things. Pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock. A lass on her hands and knees screaming my name as I fuck her. Tying her to the bed so I can lick every inch of her perfect skin.”

Emma whimpered; he knew exactly how to make her want him. Not that she didn't always. She'd been dangerously attracted to the priest the moment she met him. “So you... _God_...fantasize about one woman?”

Killian kissed the corner of her lips, then along her jaw. “Just one. Golden hair, piercing green eyes, legs that go on forever. Perfect in every way.” He nibbled on her earlobe; her clit throbbed in response. “What do I need to do, sweet Emma? To absolve myself of my sin?”

She palmed the bulge in his pants, stroking him through the fabric. “Give in to it,” she demanded. “Indulge your fantasies, Father Jones. With me.”

He groaned, kissing her hard on the mouth. “Oh yes, always you.” He kicked off his shoes and guided her to the small twin bed. He lay her down over the width of the bed, kneeling before her. “No need to be quiet, lass. There's no one to hear you.” With that, he eased off her heels and kissed her ankles. He moved up her legs, pushing the skirt up as he went, kissing, licking, nibbling on her skin. He sucked hard on the delicate skin between her thighs, leaving a bold mark there. He wanted her to remember who made her feel this way.

Emma gripped the sheet in tight fists, hips rocking steadily, head thrashing. Their previous trysts had of necessity been quick, dirty and very hot. On his desk, at the altar very late at night, in the confessional in the middle of the day. Once they had a quickie in one of the church closets. Now he could take his time, worship her body, practically make the skin melt off her bones. He deliberately avoided her center, seeking out other sensitive places on her body. He kissed the arch of her foot and she moaned, surprised. He grinned lecherously as her and did it again, massaging the arch firmly.

“Like that?”

She bit her lip. “God yes. But you're _teasing_ , Killian.”

“Perhaps I just like watching you writhe for me.”

“Ugh!”

He chuckled and kissed the back of her knee. “It's torture for me as well, Swan. I want you so bloody much. And I shouldn't.” He spread her knees and bent to inhale her scent. “You call these knickers, lass?”

“Thong,” she groaned, knowing her underwear were completely ruined now. “Just get them off!”

He reached under her skirt and found the waistband, tugging the flimsy material down her legs. Once she was free, he dived under her skirt, licking a long stripe along her slit. “Wanted this earlier,” he mumbled. “I plan to enjoy it.” Emma yanked back the skirt, so she could see him, his dark head between her thighs.

“Yes, Father! Yes!” she cried, as he sucked greedily on her clit. It was freeing, not having to keep her voice down. He made her feel so much; she didn't want it to stop. He moved from her clit to her dripping entrance, lapping at her arousal; he was talented with that mouth, bringing her off with little effort. But he didn't stop, working her up again, adding his fingers, two thick digits sliding into her heat. Emma could hardly stand it; she was on fire, the pressure building higher and higher in her belly. She shattered with a sharp cry, fingers coiled in his hair.

Spent, she collapsed against the mattress, shivering as Killian parted her dress. He unwrapped the fabric, kissing his way up her torso. “God, you are gorgeous,” he mumbled into her skin. He tugged the dress away; she lay naked and panting in his bed. “Emma?”

“Hmm?”

“Still with me?”

“Mmhmm.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He lay beside her, still dressed. “Hello, Father Jones.”

“I should not love the way you say that. It sounds so filthy on your lips.”

“We're not done, Father,” she reminded him. She reached over and stroked him through his pants. “Not by a long shot.” Killian groaned, rocking into her expert touch. He found her lips and pressed sloppy kisses there, hands wandering her body. Emma left him and started working his shirt open. They made out lazily as she slowly stripped him naked. She'd never seen him entirely nude before and...holy shit. “Wow.”

Killian actually blushed; he hadn't been naked with a woman since before seminary. And then he'd been a gangly teenager. “Yeah?”

She touched his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, over his chest, his hips. She even squeezed his ass, which she was already very fond of. “Oh yeah.” She flashed him a wicked grin then pushed him on his back, latching onto his skin with her lips. She gave him the same attention he'd given her, worshiping his body with mouth and hands. He was hard as a rock, desperate for relief. Anything, if only she'd stop toying with him. She fondled his sac, observing his cock with a critical eye. The things he could do to her with that should be illegal. And immoral. But God help her, she couldn't stop wanting him.

He bucked off the bed when she licked along the fat vein, moving from root to tip. The first thing she'd ever done to him was give him an earthshattering blowjob; he was helpless against her after that. She lapped at the weeping slit, swirling her tongue around the sensitive head. “I want you inside me, Father,” she whispered. “I need you inside me.”

“Oh fuck,” he swore. She took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down, eyes locked with his. Her pupils were blown, so were his, caught up in their lust. But Killian thought he saw a hint of something else, something undefinable in her green eyes. She knew precisely when to back off, stopping just short of orgasm. Killian tugged her up and Emma squealed. Her cry was cut off by his kiss as they maneuvered in the tiny bed. “Wanted this for so long.”

“So take me,” she challenged, easing him between her thighs. They rocked and teased, her soaking center grinding against his cock. “Fuck, I need to feel you. You feel so good inside me, Father.”

It was that last bit that did it; Killian reared back and plunged into her hot tight sheath with a single stroke. Emma cried out in pleasure, pulling him down to kiss him hard as he fucked her with jerky rocks of his hips. She didn't know if being sex deprived for all those years made him work extra hard to please her, but he was the best lover she'd ever had. He hit her in all the right places, thick cock dragging along her walls, stretching her. Killian lowered his head and latched onto one of her nipples, sucking it greedily as his hips snapped into hers.

“Yes, yes yes!” Emma cried, back arching. The bed creaked under them, clearly not made for this much stress, but no one paid any attention. She clawed at his back, locking her ankles around his hips. Killian grunted, releasing her with a wet pop. “Close,” he gasped. “Come, Emma. Squeeze me.”

She found her clit and flicked it rapidly, her high coming in a rush. She screamed, long and loud, as it rocked her, stars popping behind her eyes. Her clamping walls sent him over the edge quickly, milking him dry. He rutted into her until they were both spent, shaking in each other's arms.

He tried to roll off but there wasn't really anywhere for him to go. Emma whimpered as he slipped from her, following his lead and laying on her side, facing him. Killian reached up and stroked her cheek; she was still flushed, panting for breath. “Lass?”

“Hmm?”

“Okay?” 

She surprised him by snuggling close. “Yep.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “We should get you cleaned up.”

“In a minute.” This was the part they both hated, even though no one said anything. Usually, it was mitigated by circumstances, having indulged in their lust in some back corner or other. But now she was in his bed. Part of her didn't want to leave, which scared the crap out of her. So instead of thinking too much, she leaned up and kissed him. Slow, in no hurry, soft tender kisses, just because she could. He didn't stop her, secretly pleased she didn't seem to be in a rush to leave.

Still, he couldn't stop the nagging voice. “Love, what is this?”

She leaned back, glancing away. “Does it have to be something?”

“No. Maybe.” He sighed. “I missed you, is all.”

That she understood. “I missed you too,” she admitted. “It's been a hell of a week.”

Killian offered her a sympathetic smile, going to get her a washcloth. “Care to talk about it? I am rather good at listening.”

She laughed, accepting the cloth. “I guess you are. Father.” He pretended to glare at her. “What? I'm sleeping with a priest.”

“Believe me, I am well aware. It seems the flesh is weak when it comes to you, Swan.”

“I wouldn't say that,” she smirked.

“Oi! You were going to tell me about your hellish week?”

“Oh, right.” She looked around the dingy room. “Do you have a blanket or something?”

He went to fetch one from the closet. “Planning on staying?” he asked casually.

She shrugged. “Maybe. I'd have to go early though. Don't you have neighbors?”

“Aye.” He draped the blanket over them and huddled close to her. “We'll worry about that later. Now tell me about it. Please?”

She hesitated for only a second before launching into the tale. He soaked in everything she said, cherishing this moment. He didn't know what would happen, but he found that he didn't care. He simply had to have faith.


	2. Unexpected Blessings

Emma pulled the belt tight around her waist. Part of her couldn't believe she was doing this, but it was too deliciously naughty to turn down. She'd never considered herself much of a risk taker, but that before she locked eyes with a certain Father Jones.

She couldn't explain—even to herself—why she couldn't shake him. First, she thought it was just the thrill of showing that he was just as human as the next man. That he _wanted._ That was enough at first. Having now spent the night in his tiny twin bed alternately talking and fucking...there was a voice that whispered to her that it was more.

She _liked_ the way he looked at her. The way his eyes lit up when she stepped into the room, that little mischievous smile, knowing they shared this secret.

For the first time in a long time, Emma Swan decided to stop thinking and just enjoy it while it lasted.

Not to mention, the sex? Mind blowingly amazing.

Emma rechecked her makeup in the rearview mirror, then stepped out of her Bug. She walked down the block to the church; she never dared to park in the church parking lot since the first time she touched him intimately. A heated discussion that ended with her on her knees and his cock in her mouth, mostly because she just wanted to shut him up.

It worked to perfection.

Emma ignored the few people she passed; not many frequented the church on a week day. Killian didn't know she was coming, but she knew his schedule well enough by now to know he would be in his office. Alone. She hadn't seen him in several days. Not really intentional on her part, but she knew if they were seen together _too_ much people would get suspicious. And that would just take the fun out of it.

At least that was what she told herself.

She ducked through the large ornate doors and turned down the path to offices. In the weeks since starting this...thing, she'd gotten to know the inner workings of the church quite well. For someone of her background, it was all too easy to slip in unnoticed. She found Killian's office—second door on the right—and knocked.

“Enter.”

Emma turned the handle and stepped inside. “Father Jones.”

Killian looked up from his book, his jaw slightly slack. He hadn't expected a visit, hadn't even heard from her in three or four days. They'd seen each other sparingly since Christmas night and he missed her. “Miss Swan.” He tried to be formal, as the door was still open. Anyone of his colleagues could walk by.

“Busy?”

“Merely perusing some of the wisdom of the Church fathers,” he explained, standing up. “Nothing pressing.”

“Good. I was hoping I could borrow you for a very special case.”

He smiled. “As always, I am happy to help, Miss Swan. Shall we discuss it in private?”

“Sure.” She closed the door, “forgetting” to lock it.

The moment the door was closed, Killian groaned. “You torment me, love.”

She smiled impishly. “Sorry?”

“Except I know you're not.”

“Well, you really might hate me after this.”

“Not possible.” Still, he leaned on the wall of books behind him as she sauntered up to him. She was wearing a medium length trench coat with her hair in curls and red heels on her feet. He couldn't figure out what she had on underneath.

“Such faith,” she said, toying with the belt. “I like that, Father Jones.”

He started to reply but his words were lost as she revealed her true scheme. The belt of the trench coat came undone in her graceful hands and the material spread, exposing miles of her bare skin. She wore nothing, save the heels. The coat hit the floor with a soft thump, and Emma inhaled sharply, utterly exposed.

Killian looked her up and down, drinking her in, his gaze lingering on her pert breasts. She shivered, nipples hardening right before his eyes. She fought not to fidget, not wanting to ruin the moment. Slowly, Killian reached out, his fingertips tracing the curve of her left breast.

“Breathtaking,” he whispered.

She bit her lip; his touch was electric, zipping across her skin. “Oh.”

“Who's taking confession today, Swan?”

She let out a breath and arched into his touch. Then she grabbed the shirt and dragged his mouth to hers. “Screw confession and kiss me, Father,” she mumbled. He growled against her lips and did as she asked, happily. His hands wandered her naked form, trying to touch everything at once. She was exquisite, pale and gorgeous and desperate for _him_. He plundered her mouth, swallowing her little whimpers of pleasure. In moments, he was painfully hard, his pants constricting.

Killian backed her against his desk, almost bending her backwards, as they kissed. She stroked his tongue with hers, clinging to him. She could feel his thick erection press into her stomach and she rocked against it, proud that she made him this way.

“Happy to see me, Father?” she teased, head falling back as he sucked on her pulse.

“Bloody minx, showing up like this.” He thrust against her. “Wanting you is a sin.”

“Do you want to stop sinning?”

“Hell no.” He had no control when it came to her; he'd long since gave up trying. Instead, he let his hand slip between her thighs. “So slick.” He chuckled and nibbled on her throat. “Does this make you hot, Swan? Fucking a priest?”

She let out a strangled moan. “God yes.” She wrenched his mouth back to hers and kissed him fiercely before shoving him back and dropping to her knees. She rubbed the bulge in his slacks rhythmically; Killian's eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Fuck.”

“Eventually,” she replied coyly. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, rubbing her cheek over his clothed cock. She couldn't wait to feel him in her hand, in her mouth. Emma eased the slacks over his hips, drawing his boxers down as well. He wet his lips, fingers sliding into her hair. Emma smirked at him before drawing her tongue along the hard ridge of his shaft, from root to tip. Killian bit back a groan, trying to stay still. She peppered his cock with wet kisses, deftly taking him into her hand. Her other hand fondled his balls, knowing he liked that.

“Please,” he whispered, tightening his grip. “Suck me. Please.”

Her smile widened for the briefest moment before she took him into her mouth. He groaned softly as he thrust a little; she was so warm and wet around him. He got lost in her, eyes falling closed as she bobbed, alternately sucking and licking him.

There was a sharp knock on the door and they both jumped. Killian's eyes widened in panic, but Emma was already scrambling. She grabbed her coat and ducked under Killian's desk. It was big and wooden, leaving plenty of room if she crouched. “Answer him and sit in the chair,” she hissed.

“Yes?” Killian called, hastily plopping in the chair. He hadn't even pulled his bloody trousers up! He scooted forward until his legs were safely hidden under the desk with Emma.

“You have a minute, Jones?” Father Cartwright said through the door.

He didn't respond until he felt Emma pinch his calf. “Ah, can it wait?”

“It'll only take a moment. I just want to go over next week's program.”

Unable to refuse his superior, Killian agreed. His erection hadn't abated, despite his effort to will it so. The door swung open and the older man stepped through. “I hope I'm not interrupting?”

“No, I was just reading.” Killian gestured to the book on his desk. It was only slightly askew.

“I wish all young priests were as diligent in their studies as you, Jones,” Father Cartwright said calmly.

Killian knew that would not be the case if the elder priest knew about the naked woman under his desk, so Killian said nothing. Only to have his senses completely stunned by the warm hand curling around his long suffering cock. He inhaled sharply, fingers tightening on the edge of the desk.

“You well, Jones?”

Killian forced himself to remain calm. “Aye, just remembering something I need to do before Vespers.” 

“Good, good.” Father Cartwright took out his little notebook. “Now as I was saying, there aren't many changes...” Killian didn't really hear the rest. He couldn't focus on anything aside from Emma's lips and tongue pleasuring him under the desk. He swallowed, inching forward in the chair, ever so slightly. Emma grinned to herself; this was going better than she hoped. She crouched between Killian's spread legs, licking and lightly sucking on the tip of his cock. She could taste precum on her lips; it was all she could do not to moan aloud. Her core was soaked and aching, longing for him to fill her.

“So you see, I think this will be a much more efficient use of our time,” Father Cartwright finished. “Don't you agree?”

Killian had no idea what the old man had been blathering about. “Aye, that's sounds fine.”

“Excellent. I'll leave you to your reading then.” The old man smiled kindly and headed for the door.

“Father?” Killian said.

“Yes?”

“Could you lock the door on your way out?”

“Of course. I'll ensure you're not disturbed.”

“Thank you.” The moment the lock clicked, Killian shoved away from the desk. He was both exhilarated, insanely turned on, and a little pissed that she took this kind of chance. As Father Cartwright's steps fell away, Killian helped Emma out from under the desk. “What the bloody hell were you _thinking?”_

“I was thinking about seducing you in your office,” Emma countered. “Again.”

“You didn't lock the door,” he accused.

“Guilty,” she said, laying her hands on his chest. She leaned in to make her confession. “I was hoping someone would stumble on us.”

“You were?” he croaked.

“You still want me,” she said, reaching down to stroke him. “Father Jones.”

He held her hip; he could feel his anger melting away. “That was reckless, Swan.”

“And you loved every minute.”

“God help me, but I did.”

“Feel what that did to me, Father. How much I want you.” She guided his hand back between her legs, moaning softly as he stroked her swollen clit. “Are you gonna punish me for my sin, Father Jones? For lusting after a priest? For needing his cock inside me?”

Killian said nothing, but kissed her hard as they continued to grope each other. She started pulling impatiently on his buttons, tearing out his priest's collar. Killian lifted her onto the desk, forcing her legs apart. She mewled as he rubbed his aching cock against her slick flesh, teasing them both. “Such a naughty girl,” he growled in her ear. He thrust against her, rubbing her clit. “Fuck, you're hot.”

“Oh _God,_ ” she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his narrow waist.

“You think I'm God?” He chuckled. “Perhaps I _should_ punish you.”

She smiled at him, leaning into bite his earlobe. “Would you go for that, Father Jones? Me in a little Catholic school girl outfit? Should I get you a switch?”

Killian twisted her nipples, relishing her low moan. “You're really into this.”

She finally managed to wrench his black shirt free, dragging her nails through his glorious chest hair. “I want you _in_ me,” she countered huskily. “So badly, Father. Please fuck me.” She drew his mouth down to hers, kissing him passionately. “Please.”

He groaned and spread her knees wider. “Love fucking you on my desk,” he muttered, the head of his cock rubbing her. He teased her until she was whimpering incoherently then pushed in forcefully. He swallowed her little scream with another fiery kiss. She was so _hot_ , so _tight_ around him; he would swear this was heaven. He'd only been fooling himself before; surely God didn’t think this was wrong. Not the way it felt when they were together like this. He took her slowly, long even drags of his cock, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in.

Emma cupped his face, kissing him wetly, locking her ankles around his waist. “Fuck, so good,” she whispered. “You always feel perfect inside me, Father. Killian. Don't stop. Please don't stop.”

“Perfect,” he agreed, rocking back in over and over. He slipped his hand down between them, flicking her clit. “So perfect, love.”

Emma rocked her hips, trying to grind her hips into him. “Please, I need...Killian, I _need_...” 

“Tell me, Emma,” he said, thrusting quick and sharp. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” she said, her voice breaking. She'd never felt like this with anyone. She didn't what to examine it, she couldn't. She just wanted to _feel_. “Father Jones.”

Killian slipped his hands under her ass and lifted her up. He maneuvered them to his leather armchair, still locked inside her body. They both whined in complaint when he slipped out, but Emma quickly guided him back. She sank down on him, rolling her hips in a way she knew drove him crazy. This wasn't much wider than the confessional, but the leather made it much more comfortable.

“That's it,” Killian growled softly. “Ride me, sweet. So fucking gorgeous.”

“So dirty, Father,” she murmured with a soft groan. The door was locked but she still couldn't scream like she wanted to. He felt incredible. “Love that.”

“So many things I want to do to you,” he said, sliding his hands up her ribcage. “So many sins.”

Emma braced her hands on his shoulders, riding him sinuously. “Yes, yes, fuck yes.”

“Hurry, Swan,” he muttered, planting his feet more firmly on the floor. He started to drive up into her. “Need to feel you come on my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” Emma bit out. His thrusts hit her g spot, making her whimper. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, holding on for dear life, nails digging into his skin. _“Fuck.”_

He held her ass, driving into her as hard as he could. She shattered in his arms, whimpering his name over and over softly. Her fluttering walls were too much for him; he spasmed inside her, grunting harshly. She fell into his chest, panting, and he held her loosely, trying to regain some sense of self. He caught Emma pressing sweet kisses to his collar, but he remained silent. He simply held her, basking in the afterglow.

“Emma?” he asked after his breathing returned to normal.

“Hmm?”

“Comfortable?”

She laughed quietly. “You're warm.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” 

“It was very nice of you to visit me, lass.”

 She smiled; it was almost shy. “You're not mad?”

“I can't imagine ever being _angry_ at you, Emma.”

“Not even for leaving the door unlocked?”

“You know my schedule too well,” he said, feigning annoyance. He knew her well enough that she planned this encounter to the last detail. He'd been too intoxicated with her to realize it at the time. “Minx.”

She grinned, cupping his scruffy cheeks and kissing him. “I should go.”

His heart sank, but he knew she was right. He skimmed his hands up her back, stealing another needy kiss. It should worry him how addicted he was becoming to her. “Let's get you cleaned up first.”

She nodded and climbed off his lap. Killian headed for his desk, plucking some wet wipes from a drawer. He handed Emma a couple and used one himself. They didn't talk much as they redressed; Killian wasn't sure what to say. Their affair was so tenuous; despite the fact that he knew it was wrong, he didn't want it to end. And he was terrified of scaring her off.

“Killian?”

“Aye?”

Emma walked up to him, laying her hand on his chest. “I'll call you soon, okay?”

“I look forward to it.”

“Really?”

He smiled. “Really. You don't give yourself enough credit, Swan.”

She rolled her eyes, but secretly she was pleased. “Okay. Leaving now.” She turned, but Killian gently grabbed her arm. He turned her back and stole one last kiss, needy and passionate. She carded her fingers through his hair, sucking on his bottom lip before stepping back. “Until next time, Father Jones.”

“Until next time, my lovely Swan.”


	3. Uniformity

Killian adjusted his robes and stepped into the confessional. He'd noticed a few parishioners lurking in the back; he was certain that at least two of them would change their mind before even thinking about entering the little wooden room.

He couldn't force people into confession, especially as he was a sinner himself. Repeatedly. And in that very four foot by four foot space.

He still couldn't walk into the confessional without thinking of her. Emma Swan. Their affair was still going on, even as spring approached. Occasionally, he wondered why, why someone like Emma kept coming back. When he first met her, she was all sarcasm and no nonsense; she'd been on a case, suspected her quarry was hiding in the church. He'd been thoroughly beguiled by her within minutes and not simply because she was beautiful. Emma was a force to be reckoned with, yet he found her oddly vulnerable.

Whatever her allure, she'd stayed with him. He was quite surprised when she kept popping up, often when he least expected her. But they didn't seem to have much in common, constantly arguing whenever they _did_ see each other. Still her attitude hadn't stopped him from fantasizing about her. He prayed and struggled and read his Bible until the words swam but nothing helped.

And now that they had begun, it seemed neither knew how to stop.

He was ripped from his thoughts by his first confession of the afternoon; he cleared his throat, waiting to listen. This was the part of being a priest he liked the least; all too often confessions felt perfunctory, rote. Something the confessor did because it was expected of them, not because they actually repented. But only God could truly judge what was in someone's heart, so he tried to keep an open mind, grant absolution and penance where he could.

As he waited between confessions, he thought about his next sermon, two Sundays from now. Father Cartwright was going to be visiting Rome on official business, and Killian was being left in charge. He was aware of the enormous responsibility, the added scrutiny.

He would need to tell Emma. If he had to go three weeks without seeing her, he might go mad.

The door next to him opened and closed. A familiar scent wafted through the grate and Killian froze. Oh, she was a wicked, wicked girl, his Swan.

Killian swallowed. “Greetings, my child. How long as it been since your last confession?”

Emma leaned in close to the grate. “Three days and five hours, Father.”

Killian shivered; of course she would know precisely how long it had been since he made her scream his name. He'd gotten a new bed for his little cottage, bigger, and Emma had helped him break it in. “That's not very long, lass. Sinning again so quickly?”

“No,” she replied. “But I want to. Isn't the temptation to sin enough?”

Killian let out a relieved breath. They'd never discussed it, but he liked knowing that she was only sleeping with him. Terribly selfish, given the nature of their liaison, but he wanted it all the same. He liked thinking of her as his.

“It can be,” he said reasonably. “What is your temptation?”

“I have...needs, Father Jones,” she replied.

“Temptation of the flesh,” he said knowledgeably. He knew her body well, knew every way she liked to be touched. His fingers flexed, needing to feel her smooth pale skin. “Anything specific?”

Emma looked down at herself, the outfit she'd worn for him. They'd talked about her little fantasy once; she hoped he would indulge her. If he was half as horny as she was, then this would be fun. “I touch myself,” she said clearly, hands smoothing down her tight button down shirt. “It feels good.”

Killian inhaled sharply, his cock hardening in a blink. He'd watched Emma touch herself before, her nimble fingers bringing herself to orgasm for him. “Do...what do you think about when you...sin?”

“A man's head between my legs. Dark hair, blue eyes. I pull on his hair as he licks me.”

Killian popped open his pants, sighing in relief. “Then what?”

“Do you need to hear it, Father? It gets...graphic.”

“Bloody hell, Swan,” he snapped. _“Tell me.”_ Then after this, he could smuggle her out of this place and have his wicked way with her.

“Oh fuck,” Emma mumbled, hand sliding under her skirt. “God, I'm so wet.”

Killian tried to look through the grate, but it was too shadowed to make anything out. “Tell me,” he pleaded softly. “Then I'll have you. Anyway you wish.”

“Anything?”

 _“Yes,”_ he hissed, fisting his cock. He shoved the robes aside hastily; he didn't need them getting stained. His clothes were bad enough.

“Well, Father...I feel his tongue slide inside me. So warm, plunging as deep as he can. His fingers tease my clit, but it's not enough. He just keeps me hovering on the edge until I'm _begging_.” Emma rubbed her slick flesh, two fingers teasing the rim of her entrance. “But then we move and I'm straddling his face, his mouth teasing me. So I bend down to lick his cock. It's so long...and thick. Feels so good when he fucks me with it.”

Killian groaned, pumping his hand, thumb teasing the sensitive head of his cock. Listening to her was intoxicating, all the filthy things she wanted him to do to her. “Does...does he fuck you?”

Emma sank her fingers into her heat, hips bucking in the tiny seat. “Oh yes,” she breathed. “He makes me watch, watch his cock fill me up as I get wetter and wetter. In and out, over and over...” Her head fell back with a soft thump. “Please. I need to come. Please.”

“Let go,” he mumbled. His own hips were rutting into his hand, hanging on her every word. “Come for me, love.”

Emma bit her lip to keep from crying out as she fell, inner muscles squeezing her fingers. She wished it was his cock instead, but they had time. She heard his muffled cry a moment later, followed by a heavy exhale. “Bloody hell.”

She smiled toward the grate. “Feel better?”

“I'll feel better once I am buried inside you,” he corrected. “But aye.” He frowned at his hand, then wiped it on his black shirt. If he played his cards right, no one would see. He tucked himself away and zipped up. “That was very naughty, lass.”

“It's not like I climbed in there _with you_ ,” she replied, still smiling. “Oh wait, I did that.”

He sighed. “You did. And I loved every sodding second.”

“We are terrible.”

“I wish I gave a damn.”

“You should. You're a priest.”

“And that gets you off, doesn't it?” When she didn't reply he silently cursed himself. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.” He reached over and lowered the top half of the partition. Finally he could see her, at least partly. She looked a bit frightened and he tentatively reached out. “Swan?”

She leaned into his hand as it curled around her cheek tenderly. There it was again in her eyes, that emotion he couldn't define. “I...I don't just like you because you're a priest,” she admitted.

“That's good to hear.” He smiled at her. “May I kiss you?”

“Please.” They met in the middle, a slow slightly wet kiss. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make love to her, but this was definitely not the place. And his time for confession was probably up.

“Can you sneak into my place?”

“Yeah. You have the rest of your present to unwrap.”

“Present?”

She shrugged. “It's been five months since we...started?”

“How could I forget? You on your knees, sucking me off. You were stunning.”

Emma wet her lips. “Hmm, I had to get that smug look off your face somehow.”

“It worked.” He leaned in to kiss her again. “I'll be there very soon. Just let me close things up here.”

“I'll be waiting.”

Killian didn't leave the confessional until two full minutes after Emma. He had to shrug into his robes and make himself look somewhat presentable. He saw no one on his way to his office, thankfully. He ducked inside, shucked off his robes and moved to grab a clean shirt. He yanked off his collar, contemplating leaving it behind. But he secretly loved the look in her eyes, the way she fingered the collar right before she tore it away. So he buttoned up his clean black shirt and slipped the collar into place.

He shrugged into his jacket and grabbed his keys. After locking his office, he said good evening to the church secretary as he passed. The air was warming up; spring was around the corner. He kept his head down as he walked through the church yard, passing through the gate and onto the street. He finally allowed himself to smile as he got closer to his place.

He glanced around curiously before entering the cottage. There was no one around but he liked to be careful. Coat hung up, he frowned, wondering where Emma was. Her jacket hung next to his, so he knew she was there. He moved through the tiny living room and back toward his bedroom.

And came up short in the doorway.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he whispered. Emma was indeed in his bedroom, bent over in his closet. The pleated skirt she was wearing rode up her thighs; he could see her blood red panties peeking out from the edge. She wore stockings up to her knees and sinfully high heels. Slowly, she stood, stepping back from the closet. Killian swallowed heavily, and his heart began to race when he saw the rest of her outfit. A crisp white shirt and suspenders, a matching bra clear through the fabric.

“Hello, Father Jones.”

It took Killian several moments for his brain to re-engage. Her fantasy. The Catholic schoolgirl. Who wanted to be _punished._ A shocking wave of lust rolled through him. Emma was a gorgeous woman; she was sensual and sexy, often without even trying. But this appealed to him in a way he'd never experienced.

“Do you know why you're here, Miss Swan?”

She smiled brilliantly, so pleased he wanted to give her what she wanted. What she _needed_. She wanted to do all sorts of things with this man, _to_ him. She missed him during the last few days, something she didn't want to admit out loud. “No, Father Jones.”

He stepped deeper into the room, looking her up and down. “Not even a clue? You're a smart lass.”

Emma looked herself over. “Is it this? I thought it was okay.”

“Oh, this? This is perfect. But you've been naughty, Miss Swan.”

She boldly laid a hand on his chest. “Naughty? Do tell, Father.”

“Very naughty. Talking back...breaking the rules...” He leaned in next to her ear. “Seducing a priest.”

Emma shivered. God, she loved that voice. He could do the best things to her with it. “Sounds bad,” she purred. “What are you going to do about it?”

His lips ghosted over the curve of her neck. “Bend over the foot of the bed,” he ordered. “Panties off.” He suspected she came prepared; sure enough, he found a switch lying innocuously on the nightstand. He picked it up, turning it over in his fingers. He'd gone to Catholic school as a child, had taken his fair share of switchings. Never had he envisioned a scenario such as this.

He had half hard just thinking about it.

Emma clutched the edge of the footboard, anticipation making her quiver. She'd dreamed of this for so long, almost from the first time they'd had sex. She almost convinced herself it would never happen, that Killian was too good. But after some of the things they'd done together...she watched him like a hawk, hoping he'd get to her soon.

Killian laid the switch on the bed and made a show of rolling up his sleeves. Once he was finished, he smiled grimly. “I do this because I must,” he intoned seriously. “To instruct.”

“Yes, Father.”

He wet his lips, then picked up the switch. He moved behind her, slowly; her panties lay in a pile on the floor. He wondered if she was already wet. He suppressed a groan, then carefully lifted her pleated skirt. He had to resist the urge to trace the curve of her pert arse; he was supposed to be punishing her. Instead, he stroked the tip of the switch over her skin; he could see her trembling. It made him hesitate...did she really want this?

Emma whimpered quietly; yearning like she'd never experienced gripped her. “Please.”

Her voice was so soft, he almost missed it. But he made up his mind, her desire calling out to something primal within him. He tightened his grip on the switch and brought it down across her pale skin. Emma sucked in a harsh breath, the pain sharp and precise. By the time she exhaled, the pain had blossomed into pleasure. “Oh God.”

“It's Father Jones, Miss Swan. I think you need another five, to teach you some respect.”

“H-h-how many am I getting?”

“Ten, I think, for your initial infraction. Then another five. Do you understand, Miss Swan?”

“Yes, Father Jones.”

“There's a good girl.” He swatted her again. “Count them.” He moved the switch down and struck again, relishing her quiet moan of “one.” She breathed through it, pleasure coursing through her. Two, three, four, five. She squeezed the footboard, whimpers and moans falling from her lips between counts. He never hit the same place twice, but he left thin pink lines across her lovely ass. He would soothe her as soon he was finished. Emma could feel her slick arousal sliding down her thighs; she was _so_ turned on. She needed him to fuck her until she couldn't walk.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Killian dropped the switch instantly and dropped to his knees. Emma's knees shook as Killian placed reverent kisses to the marks on her body. “Emma, Emma, Emma,” he murmured. “What have you done to me?”

Emma moaned, his lips and tongue warm on her overheated skin. “Killian...please. Touch me. Need you so much.”

Killian nodded, tenderly parting her swollen flesh with his fingers. “You are _dripping_ , love.” He licked her from front to back, teasing her entrance. Emma keened, just thankful he was touching her. He ate her greedily; he loved her sweetness. He moved back to front, over and over, holding her hips to make sure she didn't fall. Emma shuddered, the pleasure almost too intense. “Come for me.” He sucked on her clit and she exploded, crying out incoherently.

Her body gave out and Killian caught her, then carried her to his bed. He laid her out, but she didn't let him get far. Weakly, she grabbed his shirt and fused his lips to hers. She could taste herself on his lips; it made her burn for him _again._ He tumbled into the bed, hand weaving through her golden tresses. “Killian, _thank you_.” Kiss, tongue sliding past his lips. “So fucking hot.” Nibble of his neck, his scruff scratching her delicate skin. “Do you want me, Father Jones?”

“God yes,” He muttered, fingers sliding under the suspenders. He eased them off and started on her blouse. “All kinds of ways.”

“You've got me,” she assured him. “All night long.”

“Bloody hell.” She started on his shirt, while he worked on hers. Their arms got tangled together as they fumbled with their clothes. Her shirt fell to the floor, then his. She pulled his collar out with her fucking teeth which made his cock twitch. Once he was nude from the waist up, Emma pressed him onto his back, mouthing her way down his chest. She teased his nipples with her teeth, leaving them red and swollen. She kissed along the trail that led to his pants; she blatantly nuzzled his clothed cock and he shook under her.

“I need this cock inside me,” she said, tracing the ridge with her finger. “Thought about it all day.”

“Swan,” he bit out. “Fuck.”

Deftly, she opened his fly, reaching inside and stroking him. He bucked up into her hand, hands fisted in the sheets. She licked the belled head, swirling her tongue. Killian whimpered, and she released him. He jerked his head, irked, but then she saw her pulling his pants down his legs. Together, they shucked them to the floor. Emma moved back between his legs, grinning mischievously. She licked the length of him, played with his balls. She needed him in her—badly—but she couldn't resist the wrecked look on his face. She used her mouth on him, licking, sucking, _teasing_ him.

“Swan,” he gasped, quivering with need. “Love, _please_. Need to _fuck_ you.”

“God, I love when you talk dirty, Father Jones.”

Killian growled, moving in a blink. He tackled Emma to the bed, sliding easily into the cradle of her thighs. He ground his cock into her soaked flesh. “This is just round one, lass.” He kissed her hard, forcing her hands above her head. “You want the priest to tell you how badly he needs to fuck this tight slick cunt?”

She bit her lip, whimpering. “Yes, so hot.”

“You've bewitched me,” he murmured, sliding home at last. He thrust deep, sighing at how hot and wet she was around him. They fit together so well, bodies moving sync. He took her with long slow thrusts; they had all night, she'd promised, but he wanted this to last. “Siren.”

Emma wrenched her hands free, running her fingers through his thick dark locks. She kissed him, leg hooked over his hip, digging into his lower back, forcing him deeper. “How,” she gasped, back arching. “How do you feel so good?” Part of her knew this was wrong, that they should stop. He was a fucking _priest._ Emma had broken a lot of rules in her life, but she was fucking a _priest_. Over and over again. She couldn't stop.

She didn't want to. This was hers. Just this once, she wanted to be selfish.

“Emma...oh god, just like that.” He thrust hard, grinding his public bone against her clit. “Hot, wet, so bloody _tight_.”

Emma rolled them over; he slipped from her briefly, making them both whimper at the loss. She gripped him and eased back onto him, rolling her hips languidly. Killian watched her, face awash in pleasure, breasts bouncing. He reached up and fondled them; they were perfect, full and round. Emma arched into his touch, her own fingers slipping down to her clit. She rubbed it in slow circles, not ready to come, just loving the feel of him within her.

“So fucking beautiful,” he growled. “Mine.”

Emma's eyes opened abruptly, finding his. Anxiety slammed into him, suddenly afraid he'd pushed her too far. She picked up his hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed each of his fingers, trying and failing to ignore the emotions rolling through her. She didn't know what it was about this man, but she was so fucking tired of running. “Yours.”

Killian pushed himself up, fusing his mouth to hers. Emma kissed him back, legs winding around his hips. They rocked together, pleasure burning through them, seeming to wash away all the guilt and caution that had been holding them back. This, whatever it was, felt _right._

“Close,” Emma bit out, breaking their kiss, riding him hard. “So fucking close.”

Killian flicked her clit, grunting as she shattered in his arms. He helped her ride it out, gritting his teeth. He wasn't ready to come yet. He lifted her off him and laid her diagonally on his bed, her damp hair fanned out on the rumple sheets. She nodded weakly as he shoved a pillow under her ass and slid back inside. He fucked her rhythmically, their hands linked together.

“Can you give me one more, lass? Just one more.” He brought their linked hands to her clit; Emma let go to touch herself, expertly guiding him to her g spot as she did. She cried out when he found it, her thighs trembling with impending orgasm.

“Hurry,” she pleaded. “Want to feel it inside me.”

Killian groaned, bending over her, fucking her harder, less controlled. They came together, the thick drag of him heaven inside her. Her walls rippled along his length and he moaned her name, emptying himself deep inside her body. He rutted until they were spent, collapsing on top of her. Emma tried to catch her breath, even though he was heavy. They were sweaty and sated; she didn't want to move. Her fingers trailed down his back, lips brushing his scruffy cheek. At length, Killian did roll off, leaving her in the cool air of the room. He leaned up to kiss her brow, then let her know he was going to clean them both up.

Emma let him, not wanting to talk. Now that they weren't as intimately connected, she didn't want to examine the things that they'd said. It was cowardly and she hated herself for it. But she wasn't ready. And he was still a priest. Where did that leave them?

Killian came back and gently cleaned her up, helping her under the comforter. He could sense her curling in on herself, withdrawing from him, just a little. He tried not to let it bother him; whatever had made her this way, he could be patient. He was a priest, after all.

He joined her in the bed, cautiously stretching out beside her. “Will you stay?”

She thought about leaving, but she'd promised. And in her heart of hearts, she didn't want to go. “Is that okay?”

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “If you want.”

“Good. Your bed is comfier than mine.”

He knew it wasn't exactly the truth, but he didn't call her on it. One step at a time, he reminded himself. She snuggled up to him, and he sighed, kissing her hair. This affair of theirs was dangerous, especially for him.

She held his heart in her hands and didn't even know it. And that terrified him more than anything else.


	4. Revelation

Emma huffed as she pulled her hair back while she sat at the stoplight. It was hasty, sloppy, but it was so damn hot that she didn’t care. Sometimes she thought about cutting her long hair, just chopping it off, but she could never go through with it. Killian loved her hair.

Killian. Father Jones. She should _not_ be thinking about him.

Six weeks. She hadn’t seen him for six weeks. He’d been unexpectedly summoned to the Archdiocese, leaving her with a brief text message to let her know where he’d gone. She half expected him to simply forget her, to move on with his life, but he’d texted her the moment he returned. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much she missed him, how relieved she was when he came back, how much she looked forward to their flirty texts and calls. It was far too risky while he was away; the whole time she lived in terror that they’d been discovered somehow.

What would happen then? What did she _want_ to happen?

She huffed in annoyance; feelings were not going to help her in this heat. Her Bug was starting to smoke dangerously; all she wanted right then was to get home. Home to her dingy little apartment with her TV and a bowl full of popcorn and milk duds.

The light finally changed; she pulled out, ignoring the ominous rumble of the Bug’s ancient engine. She’d meant to get it serviced, but it was expensive. The Bug was an old car; it was becoming increasingly difficult to find a mechanic to fix it for a reasonable price. Bailbonds wasn’t exactly a lucrative profession. Most of what she made went right back into her work, buying surveillance equipment and such. Whatever was left allowed her to splurge occasionally on a fancy dress or a new laptop. Even those things often went into her work; it wasn’t unheard of for her to fake a date to meet a mark.

The fact that she hadn’t done that in almost a year didn’t mean anything. Absolutely not.

The Bug gave another dangerous belch; Emma tightened her grip on the wheel. She just needed to get to her building. She’d deal with the rest later.

No sooner did she think that than her car shuddered and hissed. Thinking quickly, she managed to pull off to the side of the road, where her beloved car thudded to a halt. “Damn it.” She waited for the traffic to pass before hurriedly getting out of the car. Smoke and steam poured out the rear; she burned her fingers trying to open the hatch. The heat was intense; she coughed as she stumbled back. “Son of a bitch!”

Finally, she did manage to get the thing open, but she could see nothing but steam and hot metal. She wasn’t a car person, but she knew enough to realize her Bug wasn’t going anywhere. It probably needed coolant and bunch of other things she didn’t want to think about. Stubbornly, she stared at it for a good ten minutes, trying to will it to work. When it became clear that wasn’t going to accomplish anything, she fished out her phone. She didn’t have AAA or anything like that, so she just had to roll the dice. There wasn’t anyone she could call; she didn’t have anything like a friend in this town.

Or did she?

Emma bit her lip, staring at the phone. There _was_ someone she could call. At least she thought she could? The question was: did she want to call him? Calling him meant something, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to confront.

“Hey there, miss! Are you okay? Do you need some help?”

Emma looked up, confused. “What?”

The young man in the truck smiled, looking her up and down. “I asked if you needed some help, ma’am.”

Okay, the guy definitely looked more interested in _her_ than her car. “Um, no. But thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh, yeah.” She waved her phone. “Someone’s on the way.”

“Suit yourself.” The moment the guy pulled away, Emma dialed.

The tension went out of her the moment she heard his voice. “Swan?”

“Um, hi, Killian.” She’d only ever called him for sex; how did she ask for help?

“Swan?” She sounded…nervous? “Is something wrong, love?”

 _Just do it, Emma._ “No. Um, yeah? I’m sure you’re busy, but, uh…” She blew out a breath. “My car broke down. I’m kinda stuck.”

Killian tucked his phone in the crook of his shoulder as he stood, his heart pounding. He could hear the cars roaring past wherever she was. It was _loud._ “Where are you, Emma? Are you safe?”  

She covered her left ear with her hand to hear him better. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just pissed. Damn car.”

“You love that car,” he replied, almost to himself. It was a Thursday; he had no commitments at the church. He stuffed his wallet into his jeans and snatched his car keys off the table. “Listen, just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Swan. I’m coming. Just sit tight, yeah? Where are you?”

She leaned against her car, alternately relieved and scared. It meant a lot that he was dropping everything to come for her. And _that_ frightened the crap out of her. She let him know her location, already taking mental stock of her resources to get the damn car fixed.

After they hung up, Killian dialed his mechanic. It might be a bit presumptuous of him, but he couldn’t stop the urge to take care of her. Emma was such a strong person, but even the strongest person needed a helping hand every now and then. God helped those who helped themselves, after all. Hopefully, Emma wouldn’t be too offended. He thought it was a good sign that she called _him._ He’d missed her fiercely during his trip; it felt like it would never end. He’d just returned the night before; there hadn’t been time to do much more than let her know he was back. He wanted— _needed—_ to see her. He simply felt off kilter without her. Which was terrible, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Worse, he didn’t want it to stop.

He loved her.

Emma gathered the few possessions she needed from the car, then leaned back to wait. It was far too hot to wait _in_ the car; unfortunately, that meant she had to wait in the hot sun. Her would be Samaritan wasn’t the first; at least three more men stopped to offer help. She brushed them off with more confidence than she truly felt. She was placing her trust in Killian; it could blow up in her face, just like every other time she tried trusting a man. Still, she couldn’t help the tiny voice that told her that he was different. That Killian was worthy of her trust and it had nothing to do with him being a priest.

Crunching gravel got her attention; an old black Ford Mustang pulled up behind her Bug. She almost didn’t recognize the driver; Killian was dressed in sleeveless t-shirt and jeans, his dark fringe hanging in his eyes. If she didn’t _know_ he was a priest, she would have thought he was just another of the men that had tried to pick her up. Instead, she was just relieved to see him.

Killian growled a little as he waited for the traffic to clear long enough for him to get out. Slamming the door shut behind him, he dashed over to Emma, wrapping her up in a hug. “Swan, are you okay?”

She blushed a little as she hugged him back; it surprised her how much better she felt in his arms. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He held her close, tenderly cupping her cheek. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

She blushed harder; she wanted to kiss him too, but it was impossible out in the open. Hugging her was dangerous enough. “Rain check?”

“Aye.” He squeezed her waist then stepped back. “Have you called a mechanic?”

“No,” she said, frustrated. “I don’t know anyone here.”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, lass, but I took the liberty of calling someone I know.”

She thought about being upset, but she was too tired and frustrated. “Thanks, Killian.”

“He should be here in a few minutes. Is there anywhere you want to go?”

“Honestly? I just want to go home.”

Killian smiled in understanding. “Of course, lass. We’ll get you there.” It occurred to him that he had no idea where she lived; all their encounters took place either at the church or his cottage. He never pushed her for more than she was willing to give; something in her past scarred her. Badly.

Emma shoved her hands in her pockets. “Sorry about this. I just…didn’t know who else to call.”

Killian tenderly touched her chin, coaxing her to look at him. “I’m glad you called, love.”

Her lips quirked up in a half smile. It was cute. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He needed to show her how much he truly cared about her, but this wasn’t the place. “I was actually going to call you. It’s…good to see you, Swan.”

She fought the urge to reach for him. “It’s good to see you too.” _I missed you._

Her green eyes told him everything he needed to know. _I missed you too._

Killian’s mechanic friend appeared with his tow truck soon after; it took about twenty minutes to get the Bug hitched to the truck and on its way to the shop. Emma felt a little forlorn as she watched her trusty car roll away; she could still remember the times she lived out of it. She was in a much better place now, but it was a powerful reminder of how far she’d come in life.

Killian slipped his arm around her waist, sensing her sadness. “You’ll get her back, love. Good as new.”

“It’s a car not a she.”

He chuckled. “Oh really? So you haven’t named your mode of transportation?”

She wrinkled her nose. “What? No! No one names their cars, Father Jones.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“Aye.”

She looked askance at him. “Okay, Father. Spill it.”

“She’s the Jolly Roger. Jolly for short.”

“As in Peter Pan?”

“I enjoyed it as a child,” he said, a little defensive.

Emma laid her hand on his chest. “Hey, I was just teasing. I, uh, liked Peter Pan too.”

He smiled, a beaming happy smile that made her feel all warm inside. “Something else we have in common.” He gestured toward his car. “Shall we?”

“Okay.” Killian opened the door for her; Emma rolled her eyes as she climbed in. It smelled like him, woodsy and clean. It took him another minute to get in; the evening traffic held him up.

The Mustang started with a satisfying roar and he eased them onto the road. “Where to, milady?”

“Home. I’m starving.”

“I gathered that, love. But I, uh, don’t know where you live.”

“Oh. Right.” She gave him her address, the knowledge hitting her like a ton of bricks. Killian had never been in her apartment! Hell, she’d never even told him where she lived! In nearly a year! Before him, she was a one night stand kind of girl; she never brought men home with her. But the truth was Emma hadn’t been with anyone else since they’d begun this…whatever it was. Affair? Liaison? They weren’t dating; priests didn’t date. Priests weren’t supposed to have sex either, but that little fact hadn’t stopped them so far.

They fell into an awkward silence; neither knew what to say. Emma muttered directions as they went; before she knew it, they were pulling into the garage of her building. They had to pull into the visitor parking, since Killian didn’t have a pass. He gallantly helped her gather her things; she almost wished he wouldn’t. Because it meant he was coming up with her.

“Swan?”

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

Killian frowned; he could feel her withdrawing again. “Nothing.”

That just made her feel like an asshole. He was only trying to help her. And she _did_ care about him, despite knowing she shouldn’t. “It really means a lot that you came, Killian. Thank you.”

“Any time, love.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “I mean it. I’m not…good at this. I never have been. But I do care about you, Killian. A lot.”

He smiled hopefully, her answering smile was light itself. For his entire adult life, he sought solace in his God, his Church, his Bible. And yet he’d never found the kind of peace he found in her smile. What did that mean for him? Who was he without his calling?

The elevator opened; Killian followed her to her apartment. She seemed a little shy as she let him in. “Sorry if it’s a mess.”

“It’s fine.” Her apartment _wasn’t_ a mess; it was surprisingly tidy. Small, barely furnished, but tidy. A beige couch lay in the center of the room across from the television that was mounted on the wall. A single coffee table completed the living room; it was simple but functional.

“I don’t need much,” Emma found herself saying; she didn’t know why she was trying to explain. Killian wouldn’t judge her, at least she didn’t think he would. “Actually, I think this might be even more spartan than your place.”

Tentatively, Killian stepped into her space, lightly stroking the small of her back. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Swan.”

Emma placed her box of supplies on the small kitchen island, biting her lip. She didn’t know why she was so nervous; this was Killian. The priest she’d been fucking for months. But it was more than that; it always had been. She’d vowed to end this a thousand times, yet could never bring herself to say the words. She missed him when he was gone. Not just the sex, but _him_. He was funny and clever; for some reason, she felt like he _got_ her. It was frightening. And exciting.

And she really needed to kiss him.

Then, as if by magic, he was there. Tall, strong, handsome, with those _eyes_ , the ones that saw right through her. They reached for each other at precisely the same moment, lips crashing together in mutual desire. Emma ran her hands over the tantalizing exposed skin of his biceps, moaning as he backed her against the island.

“Missed you,” he said between kisses.

“Me too.” The edge of the counter dug into her back, but the pain didn’t bother her. His hands slid under her shirt and she shivered. “So much.”

Killian broke the kiss, heart pounding in his ears, his forehead touching hers. “My lovely Swan.”

She carded her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck; it was soft. “Interesting look for a priest,” she teased, an impish smile on her lips.

“You like it?”

“Hmmm, very much.” She knew what he looked like naked, how delectable he was in his priest garb, but this was very much for the good too. Emma dropped her hands to his waist, looping her fingers through his belt loops and drawing him to her. “I like you.” Her lips brushed his, feelings she couldn’t control bubbling up in her chest. And maybe she didn’t want to control what she felt anymore. Maybe, with him, her feelings were safe.

Killian kissed her back, sensing the change in her, the shift. The passion they felt was there, but there was more to it now, an emotional connection that grew stronger with every touch. Still, he wanted her to be sure. “Swan? I thought you were hungry?”

Food was the last thing on her mind. She shook her head. “Take me to bed, Father Jones.”

He groaned; those words on her lips still made him crazy for her. He ducked down to pick her up, encouraging her to lock her legs around his hips. They made out all the way to the bedroom, Killian kicking the door shut behind them.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Emma muttered in his ear, biting down on his lobe.

“Minx.” He threw her down on the bed; it was larger than his. “Did my Swan splurge on her bed?”

Emma smiled, slow and seductive, throwing herself into this. This she understood. Part of her wanted to understand this thing between them, but she was so fucking scared. It helped to get lost in him, in their undefinable connection, rather than examine her own feelings. “A girl needs her beauty sleep, Father.”

He nodded in agreement. “You certainly are that, love.” He crawled in after her, over top of her, forcing her back against the soft mattress. She cupped his scruffy cheeks as he kissed her, relishing the way his weight felt. She spread her legs easily, moaning at the feel of him. _“Emma.”_

“Touch me,” she pleaded, fisting his shirt. “I need you so much.”

Killian sat up long enough to strip off his t-shirt, smirking as his lover followed suit. She wore a simple blue bra; he palmed her through the fabric as Emma braced herself on her elbows. Her head fell back, exposing her long pale throat, begging for his lips. Killian didn’t hesitate to suck a mark into her neck, red and angry. Emma writhed under him, trying to grind her crotch against his.

“Patience, darling,” he soothed, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. Together, they got it off, Killian’s thumbs going instantly to her nipples, slowly stroking them into hardness.

“You were gone,” she complained, back arching.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Until Killian’s trip, they’d seen each other at least once a week, unable to stay away from each other. More often if they could manage it. It was like they were addicted to each other. “Did you think of me, love? I thought of you. Every night.”

She jutted her chin out defiantly. “No.”

He smirked. “Liar.” He continued to massage her breasts, knowing it drove her crazy. “Tell me, Swan. Tell me you missed me as much as I did you.”

Rather than deny it again—which they both knew would be a lie—Emma pushed herself up and rolled them over, leaving Killian on his back. She guided his hands back to her breasts, then slid her own down to her jeans, deftly popping the button. “Let me show you?”

“Oh yes,” he breathed, riveted as she slipped her hand under the waistband of her underwear. Her beautiful face was a mask of pleasure as she touched herself, lips parted in a soft O.

Emma deftly circled her clit, wetness flooding her core. It was intensely erotic, her lover watching her. Killian may be a priest, but he was also a man, one who looked at her like she was a goddess. It was intoxicating. “Fuck, Killian,” she breathed, shoving her hand deeper, the teeth of her zipper digging into her skin. It pinched a little, but the pain only fueled her need. “Missed you so much. Wanted you.”

He moaned, dropping his hands to her thighs. She was grinding against her hand now, whimpering with pleasure. He tried to pull her jeans down, so he could see better, his cock twitching with need. “Wanted you too, Swan,” he promised. “I always want you.” In the last year, she’d turned his entire world upside down, and God help him, he didn’t want it to end.

“Imagined you,” she whispered, pushing two fingers inside her slick heat. “Touching me. Kissing me.” She shuddered, fingers finding her g spot. “God, _fucking_ me. So good, always so good, Father Jones.”

He could feel her trembling, barely hanging on to sanity. “Come, my darling,” he coaxed. “Let me see you fall apart.”

She nodded absently, bracing one hand on his chest as she chased her high with the other. The wave crested hard, her body shaking, her eyes screwed shut. Killian caught her before she could fall, cradling her against his chest as he eased her onto her back. Emma panted for air, smiling in acquiescence as he peeled her jeans, socks and panties from her body. His own jeans were painfully tight; he took her post orgasmic haze as an opportunity to free himself of their confines.

“Killian?”

“Shh, love.” He smiled as he dropped to his knees, gently easing her legs apart. She was gloriously bare, wet and pink; he could smell her arousal. All for him. This wonderful, incredible creature wanted _him._ She desired _him._ In seminary, he was taught that his desires were a sin, incompatible with his calling to ministry. But how could this be a sin? How could his feelings be wrong? Everything he felt with Emma felt _right._ Like he finally understood who he was and what he wanted.

Above all else, he wanted _her._ If that was a sin, then he was prepared for the consequences.

Inhaling deeply, he dived in, licking a long stripe over her glistening sex. Her answering moan was music to his ears, spurring him on. He focused on her clit, alternately licking and sucking, his arms wrapping around her thighs to hold her down. Emma keened, a long wailing cry, back bowing off the bed. “God, _fuck!”_ she gasped, fisting the sheets. “Don’t stop!”

He pressed a kiss to her clit, chuckling warmly. “Killian will do, lass. Just Killian.”

She looked down at him, her green eyes blown wide with lust, a lazy smile on her lips. “Killian,” she agreed. “My Killian.”

“Yours,” he confirmed. He kept his eyes on hers as he tended her clit, thumb brushing over it rhythmically. She squirmed and moaned, teeth digging into her plump lower lip. “Entirely yours.” Killian ducked down to lap at her hole, her arousal dripping now, so wet for him. He took great relish tasting her, bringing her to the brink, never quite letting her fall. She writhed and begged, almost crying in frustration.

“Please,” she cried, desperately trying to thrust against his face. “Please!

“Dreamed of you,” he confided, finally pushing three fingers into her. “You naked and wanting, begging for me to fuck you. Is that what you want, Swan?”

He was torturing her on purpose, but she secretly loved every moment. He made her feel so much, things she never believed could be real. She needed this to be real. She needed _him._ “Please, Killian. Need to feel you. Missed you so much.”

He grinned, pulling his fingers out so he could climb back into the bed. She went to him eagerly, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss. Killian jerked her leg over his hip, groaning as his cock rubbed over her intimately. “Guide me home, love,” he whispered between kisses. “Please.”

Emma did as he asked, reaching between them. She gasped as the very tip of his cock pressed firmly against her hole, melting into a low moan as he entered her slowly, stretching her, filling her. It had been so long, far too long, since she felt him inside her; she wanted to weep at how incredible he felt. His cock was the largest she’d ever had; even better, he _wanted_ to please her. They made out sloppily as he pumped in and out of her, just enjoying the feeling of being one once more.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” he panted, hissing every time her nails dug into his skin. “So good, you feel so fucking good, darling.”

She grabbed his shoulders and pulled with surprising strength, rolling them onto her back. He was heavy, pressing her into the mattress, but it was exactly what she needed. “Don’t leave me,” she panted, arching as he sank deeper. “Fuck, don’t ever leave me again.”

“Never,” he swore, hitching her right leg under his arm, hips snapping harder into hers. She cried out in pleasure, his cock hitting her just right. “Fucking hell, Swan.”

“Harder,” she demanded. “Harder!” She missed him so much; she needed him imprinted on her body. She kissed him deeply as he heeded her, her heel digging into his back. Her climax surprised her, coming suddenly and hard, her walls clamping down on his long thick cock. She screamed as she fell, arching against him, nails raking down his back. Killian hissed, the pain sharp but exquisite, fueling his own high. He came with a grunt, rutting into her jerkily, filling her with his seed.

Emma groaned as her lover collapsed on top of her, but she didn’t mind. He was warm and solid, something else she missed while he was gone. When he did roll off her, she followed, curling into his chest like it was the most natural thing in world. She felt his lips brush her brow, so tender, and she abruptly felt her stomach drop.

What had she done? What had she _said?_ _Don’t leave me,_ she’d said. _Don’t leave me._

Killian felt her tense. “Swan? Emma? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. Rather than enjoy the afterglow of amazing sex, Emma jumped up, dashing for the bathroom. The door slammed behind her, leaving Killian bewildered. It was cowardly, she hated herself for it, but the panic had set in. Why had she said that? Why did he make her feel like this? What was happening to her? Emma moved on autopilot, using the facilities, cleaning herself up. She splashed water on her face, trying to get a rein on her emotions.

What the hell was she going to do? She hadn’t meant it. Had she? What they had was just sex. No, that wasn’t true. She truly had missed him; the rich sound of his voice, the way he held her, touched her, listened to her. Killian seemed genuinely interested in her little life; over and over again, she found herself opening up to him, eager to tell him about her days. But she knew this feeling. It only led to anguish and hurt. Plus he was a fucking _priest._ They _couldn’t_ be more, even if she wished it. Which she didn’t.

So why did her chest hurt?

A gentle knock got her attention. “I’m fine.”

“All due respect, love, but I don’t think you are. May I come in?”

Emma squared her shoulders and opened the door. She pushed past him toward her dresser, where she grabbed an oversized sweatshirt and yanked it on. She felt less vulnerable now, but not better. She couldn’t look at him as she climbed under the covers of her bed. She had no idea what to say.

Killian took his cue from her, pulling on his boxers before joining her. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. He wasn’t leaving until he knew what it was. He couldn’t bear seeing her like this. “Have I…upset you somehow?”

“What? I’m not upset,” she lied.

“You’re not a very good liar, Swan.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?”

He turned on his side to face her. “It means that not ten minutes ago you were blissfully happy and now you can’t even look at me. Either I’ve done something to offend you or there’s something else going on. Talk to me, love.”

She still couldn’t look at him. “You didn’t do anything, Killian.” He’d done nothing except be wonderful to her.

“Then what is it, lass? I hate seeing you so unhappy.”

She sighed, exasperated. “What are we doing here, Killian? What is this between us?” Hot tears stung her eyes. “Because it…it _feels_ like something, but it can’t, right? We _can’t.”_ _We can’t be together._

As wretched as he felt for her distress, he couldn’t quench the spark of hope in his chest. She felt something for him. That was _everything._ “I asked you the same thing once,” he reminded her. “Do you remember what you said?”

Her heart sank. “Does it have to be something.”

“Aye. And I went along with that, because I thought it was what you wanted. I was terrified of losing you, you see.”

She turned to him at last, eyes glassy and wide as saucers. It broke his heart. “You were?”

He smiled softly. “I was. Still am, in fact.”

“Why?”

He took a chance, brushing some of her golden hair away from her face. “Because I’m in love with you, Emma.”

“But you can’t. You’re a priest.” She wanted so badly to believe, but it seemed impossible. Everything about them seemed impossible.

“I was a man before I was a priest, Swan. I have struggled with this. Thoughts of you tortured me long before the day in my office. I’ve tried. I’ve prayed. I _begged_ the Lord to give me some kind of sign, but all I can see is you. My beautiful, stubborn Swan.”

Tears spilled onto her cheeks, profoundly moved by his speech. She reached out, tentatively threading her fingers through his. He squeezed back encouragingly, an embarrassed smile on his lips. It took her a few breaths to compose herself, to swallow down the lump in her throat. “I’ve never felt like this,” she confessed. “Once, a long time ago, I thought…I thought I loved someone but…”

“You don’t have to tell me, love.”

She shook her head emphatically. “But I do.” She set her jaw. “I was young, on the run from another shitty foster home. He was…older than me. I thought he loved me. But it was all a scam. He set me up for his crime.”

“I am so sorry, darling.”

She sniffed. “When I got out…I worked hard, you know? I tried to build a life. But one with no ties, no real home. I couldn’t let anyone in, because I was always the one who got hurt.” She smiled wetly as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it.

“I don’t intend to let you down.”

“You really mean that.”

“I do.” He sighed. “When I was in the seminary, I wondered what hell would be like. It haunted my dreams. Fire and brimstone, endless pain. I read everything I could find on it, terrified that I would end up there. That I wasn’t pure enough to attain heaven.”

Emma stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. This was the most she’d ever heard him speak of his religion. “I thought I could work through it by ministering to others, helping them with their faith. And it did help for a while. Until a gorgeous blonde walked into my church.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Emma, you did nothing wrong. Meeting you has changed my life. For the better. I was mired in doubt, hiding behind the ritual of the Church. I love the Lord, I believe in his Message. But I love you more. Being with you feels right. I feel at peace the moment I see you or hear your voice. You are _real_ , what I feel for you is _real._ Turning my back on that would be denying a fundamental part of myself. But I would, if that was what you wanted.”

“Don’t do that,” she said fervently. “I’m not worth that.”

“You are,” he replied with equal fervor. “You don’t know how special you are, Swan.”

“But where does that leave us?” She was painfully aware that she was avoiding the words he wanted to hear, the words he deserved. They were on the tip of her tongue, but they refused to come out. “Isn’t being a priest kind of a lifelong thing?”

“It can be, but I think I’ve well and truly shattered my vows. With not a single regret,” he continued, as she opened her mouth to argue. “I can’t imagine not being with you.”

“Really?”

“These last few weeks have been torture. I can’t tell you the number times I wanted to call or text. I missed you more than I thought I could miss someone.”

“Me too. I tried not to, but I can’t make it stop. I…I…”

He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “I know,” he said seriously. If she was this distraught about their relationship, he didn’t need the words.

“You really want to be with me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

She smiled brilliantly and drew his lips to hers, sealing their confessions with a kiss. Killian pulled her close, hastily yanking the blanket out of the way so their bodies were flush. Emma snuggled against him, drawn to his warmth, his chest hair tickling her nose. “So hairy, Father Jones.”

He laughed, low and rich. “That a complaint, Swan?”

“Nope. I just never expected a priest to be hairy.”

“What _did_ you expect?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the first sexy priest I’ve met.”

“Sexy, eh?” He ran his hand over her hip, pushing her sweatshirt up. “Care to elaborate?”

“Don’t push your luck, buddy.” She was lying, her fingers already nudging at his boxers.

“What happened to Father Jones?”

“I hear he’d going need a new title soon.” She smiled at him as they eased the cloth over his hips.

“I think he’ll always be Father Jones to you, Swan.” He skimmed his hand over her belly, enjoying the way her breathing hitched. “You like it too much. Corrupting a man of God.”

She raked her nails down his chest, a shiver racing down her spine. “Willingly corrupted, I hope?”

“Oh yes.” He kissed her hard, easing her onto her back so he could touch every inch of her. Emma swallowed heavily as he dived under the comforter, his mouth hot on her skin. She struggled to get the heavy sweatshirt over her head, keening as he latched onto a nipple. “Hang onto the headboard, love,” he commanded softly. “You’re mine.”

The comforter ripped away as she did so, curling her fingers around the wood. Killian wasted no time, suckling her breasts until each nipple puckered, waves of lust building in her core. “More, Killian.”

He smacked her hip playfully. “It’s Father Jones, lass.”

She wet her lips, biting back the moan that bubbled in her throat. “Please, Father Jones.”

“Please what?”

“Cleanse me of my sin,” she breathed, chest heaving. “Please, Father.”

No matter his vocation in life, he would never tire of his love using his first title. He tenderly kissed her mound, his eyes never leaving hers. “What sin, my child? Confess so you can receive absolution.”

She groaned loudly, the ache building within her. “Lust,” she breathed. “Wanting someone I shouldn’t.” She felt his finger circle her swollen clit, just enough to tease. “Oh _god!_ ”

“Who?” he demanded, spreading her legs wider. “Who do you want?”

“Someone forbidden. A man of the cloth.”

He smirked, pressing a little more firmly on her nub. “What do you do about these thoughts, Miss Swan?”

She squeezed the rungs, trying to ease some of the growing tension in her body. “Masterbate,” she hissed, her hips rocking, trying to grind against him.

“How?”

“Sometimes I touch myself. Sometimes I use the showerhead to get off.”

“Is that all?”

“I have…toys. Something to fill me up when it’s too much to bear.”

It was his turn to groan, his cock quickly swelling to full mast. “Where?”

She nodded toward her tiny dresser. “Top drawer, to the left.” She whimpered as he left her, kicking off his boxers before crossing the room. His cock stood out proudly, long and thick, with a vein she wanted to run her tongue over. She’d never craved sex the way she did with Killian. He was perfectly shaped, not too muscular, tall and strong, oozing sex. His salacious grin when he found her toys just made her wetter. “Father?”

He brandished one of her dildos, a realistically shaped purple one. “Did you masterbate with this?”

She nodded. “Yes, Father.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, Father. So much.”

He dropped the dildo on the bed and went after another toy. “What about these?”

Her breathing hitched, and her heart raced. “Those are for something else.” She loved her balls, but she’d never used them with a partner before. They were mostly for herself.

“Like what?”

She flushed. “You do…exercises with them.”

Killian titled his head, curious. His time as a priest had clearly left him ignorant of some instruments of sexual pleasure. But he was willing to learn. He’d always been a good student. “What kind of exercises?”

“To, uh, keep things…tight…down there.”

His eyes widened. “I see. Is that all?”

She swallowed. “No. You can…keep them in…during.”

He smirked; she wasn’t getting off that easily. “During what, Miss Swan?”

“Sex. It’s supposed to feel amazing.”

“I see. And have you partaken in such a thing?”

She shook her head. “No, Father.”

God, he loved doing new things with her. He laid the silver box on the bed and hurried to find his pants. He yanked out the belt and bid Emma to get on her knees. She scrambled to obey, curious about what he had in mind. A throb of lust shot through her as she watched him twist the belt in his hands; would be spank her with it? She loved the little Catholic schoolgirl routine they’d done; he spanked her with a switch.

“Hold your hands out.”

She did as he bid, breathing deeply, tingles covering her whole body. Killian cinched the belt around her wrists, trapping her. He eased her arms over her head, telling her without words to leave them raised. Then he began a tortuous tease of her body, exploring her with lips and hands and tongue. She was quivering with need as he moved up behind her, flush against her back. “Father?”

His hands settled on her hips, dragging her ass to his aching cock. “You are a very naughty girl, Miss Swan.”

“I don’t want to be, Father. I want to be a good girl.”

He groaned, unable to resist the urge to grind against her perfect arse. “God, I want you.” He peppered her neck and shoulder with kisses while he lowered her arms. Emma whined, his mouth setting her skin ablaze.

“Please,” she breathed, angling her head to give him even more access. “Show me how to be a good girl, Father.”

“Bring your toys, love.”

She felt bereft when she moved, clumsily snatching up the toys. She pressed them into his hands, eager to see what he would do to her. Killian laid them aside to draw her in for a fervent kiss. She melted into him, his tongue sinful against hers. “Touch me,” he ordered softly.

She was clumsier then usual with her hands bound, but she managed to curl them both around his thick length. She stroked him slowly, sharing desperate wet kisses. Something long and hard skimmed down her torso; Emma moaned loudly. _“Please.”_

He had every intention of giving her what she craved. He dragged the tip of the dildo over her skin, down between her parted thighs. She was very aroused, the silicone gliding easily over her sex. Emma kept pumping him as the dildo entered her, a long moan tearing from her throat. “Oh fuck, fuck.”

“That’s it, Miss Swan. Show me how you pleasured yourself.”

Emma looped her arms over his head, bracing herself so she could bounce on the toy. Her dildo wasn’t as large as Killian, didn’t fill her the same way, but it still felt good. The fact that it was _Killian_ fucking her with it just made her even hotter. “Shit, shit,” she panted, hips rocking rhythmically. “May I come, Father? God, I need to come.”

“Let go, darling. Let go.”

She fused her mouth to his as she shattered, pleasure coursing through her. They fell back in a heap, the dildo slipping from her. Killian needed her, badly, but he wasn’t through with her yet. “Am I absolved yet, Father?”

“Not even close, my child.” He kissed her briefly, his hands fumbling for the little box. The balls inside were metal, cold, heavier than he expected. “Show me how?”

“You’ll need to untie me.”

“You’re just asking for a spanking, aren’t you, Swan?”

“Hmm, yes, please.” She bit her lip as he loosened the belt and placed the balls in her hands. She rolled them in her palms, the metal warming. Then she put on a show for him, rolling them over her breasts, around her nipples. Killian kissed her belly, watching her. He smiled as she rolled them over that same belly, down to her mound. One by one she rolled them through her swollen sex, coating them in her juices. She let out a soft moan as she pushed them inside, her body accepting them easily. “Mmmm.”

“How does it feel?”

“Good. So good, Father.”

He reached down to gently caress her clit. “Can you take more, love?”

She nodded. “Please. I wanna feel you inside me, Father.”

He coaxed her onto her hands and knees, her arse in the air. Emma spread her knees as wide as she dared, moaning as he touched her, making her as wet and slick as possible. He rubbed his cock over her slit, then began to push in, ever so slowly. He didn’t want to hurt her. Emma wiggled with impatience, but groaned deeply as she stretched. _“Shit!”_

“Am I hurting you?”

“No! God no,” she panted. “So fucking _good_. Don’t stop.”

He heeded her, groaning himself as he felt the balls roll along his shaft. It was an odd feeling at first, but he loved it. As she grew accustomed to his size, he moved faster, harder. Emma keened, dropping to her elbows so she could rock back onto him. It felt even better than she imagined; she felt _full_. “Fuck, more,” she whispered. “Need all of it.”

Killian grunted, his hand coming down on her bouncing cheek. Emma cried out, a wail of pure pleasure. He kept spanking her, sinking deeper with every stroke. “Fuck, that’s it, Swan. So fucking wet. You love this.”

“Yes!” she cried. She raised her hips just a little, in moments he was hitting her most sensitive spot, making her tremble with impending climax. “Close! So fucking close!”

He grabbed her hips, fucking her with abandon. Their skin slapped together, an endless litany of moans tumbled from her lips. They climaxed at almost the exact same moment, Emma not bothering to hold back her scream of pleasure. So intense was her orgasm, she nearly blacked out. Killian groaned something that sounded like her name as he jerked within her, bathing her walls with his seed.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, holding Killian as he trembled. Her lips touched his damp forehead absently, still reeling herself. Being with Killian was always an incredible experience, but it had never felt like this. She had never felt like this. This man wormed his way into her heart and she didn’t know how. Or why.

She didn’t want him to leave.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she stopped herself. She couldn’t tell him like this. He deserved better than that. _I love you, Killian._

He cradled her as he rolled off, unwilling to let her go. “You are incredible, love.”

She flushed, not feeling worthy of his praise. She needed to tell him. Soon. “You’ve just been sex deprived,” she joked.

He chuckled. “In more ways than one,” he confirmed.

She laid her hand over his slowing heart. “Was it…” She bit her lip, wondering if she should ask. He was willing to give up his vocation for her; that was so enormous she couldn’t process it. “Was it hard, I mean…difficult…”

“To give up sex?” he finished for her.

She blushed harder. “Yeah? You don’t have to answer. I was just curious.”

“I’m not offended, lass.” He kissed her hairline. He stroked her hair thoughtfully. “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

“Were you a virgin?”

“What? No! I just…didn’t have that great of an experience, I suppose.”

She looked askance at him. “How is that possible? You’re…” She gestured inarticulately, not sure what she was trying to say. Sex with Killian had always been amazing; although…things had been awkward the first couple of times. She just chalked that up to lack of practice. He always left her satisfied.

“I’m what?” he shot back, waggling his expressive brows.

“Good,” she said finally. “Like the best. The best I’ve ever had. Seriously.”

He would have been lying if he said that didn’t make his chest puff with pride. “Yeah?”

She shoved at him playfully, rolling her eyes. “Christ, I’ve created a monster.”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain, Swan?”

“Early and often, Father,” she confirmed with a grin.

“God, I love you.”

Emma bit her lip, glancing down at his chest. She wanted to be brave for him. And for herself. Running was so fucking exhausting. It might not be the perfect circumstances, but they were far from perfect. Perfectly _imperfect_. “I love you too.” She met his eyes. “I love you, Killian.”

The smile on his face was the happiest smile she’d ever seen; she couldn’t believe that she’d put it there. He kissed her, warm and sweet; tears slid down her cheeks. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.”

“No, lass. Don’t apologize. This is all new for me too.”

“What are we going to do?”

He touched the apple of her cheek. “First, we’re going to get something to eat. I believe you said something about being hungry?”

She laughed. “Yeah, food would be good.” She didn’t know where they went from there, but she was excited to find out.

 

**Two Months Later**

“Kitchen!”

Killian strained under the weight of the box, which would have been annoying if he didn’t know full well his girlfriend enjoyed the view. “Is this the last of it, love?”

Emma swiped her forearm over her brow, surveying the chaos that was to be their new home. “I think so. Did we get everything from your car?”

“Aye, I put the last of it in the bedroom.”

“We need to get you some colors. All your clothes are black.”

Killian ignored her jab, coming to loop his arms around her waist. “You like black, darling.”

She leaned back against him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. “I dunno. I think red’s a good color for you.”

“Oh really?”

She turned, mischief shining in her eyes. “Appropriate for a former priest, don’t you think?”

Killian held her close, his hands settled firmly on her delectable arse. “I will submit to your greater knowledge of the world, lass.”

“I think you’re catching up.” She leaned in for a kiss, humming as their lips touched. It was surprisingly easy, how quickly they fell into each other. Now that they were putting the past behind them, the future seemed bright. Brighter than she could ever remember. “Should we finish unpacking?”

“It will keep.” He slipped a hand into hers, tugging her toward their second hand couch. When Killian left the priesthood, he was shocked that Emma instantly offered to move in together. He fully expected to find a place for himself while they got to know each other better, go on actual dates. Emma wouldn’t hear of it; they loved each other, for her that was enough. He tried to argue, but eventually gave it up. His Swan could be stubborn; the real truth was he didn’t want to be away from her. Their relationship felt brand new and in a way, it was. He hadn’t dated since he was a teenager, neither had Emma. They had some hiccups, some growing pains. Living together was a lot different than sneaking around. But they never gave up. Killian was the first to suggest they find a new place, something that could be _theirs._ Emma agreed, and the search began.

Their new apartment wasn’t large or especially modern, but it was comfortable. Or, it would be, once they finished unpacking.

Emma curled into Killian’s side, ignoring her aches and pains. Killian smelled of sweat and his unique woodsy scent, a scent she now associated with contentment and safety. “Tired, love?”

“I’m okay.”

“I didn’t think we had this many possessions.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“I’m jesting, Swan. In a couple of days, we’ll have this place ship shape.”

“Still not sure how I feel about all nautical speak.”

He chuckled. Since abandoning his calling, he’d found a job at the docks, helping out at the lighthouse. He’d become friendly with many of the local fishermen, a couple former parishioners. That had been awkward at first, but once they met Emma, she won them over. He learning to live in the world, all with his Swan at his side. “Might be too late for that, darling.”

“We’ll see.” She threaded their fingers together. “Unpacking’s going to be a bitch.”

“Perhaps, but at least we’ll do it together.”

She smiled to herself. “That is nice.” She’d been alone for so long; she _liked_ having someone to come home to. “I think we’ll be happy here.”

“I’m happy wherever you are. Even if we had to live out of your Bug.”

She poked him. “There’s nothing wrong with my car, Mister.” The Bug was back, engine purring like a kitten.

“I didn’t say there was. I was just pointing out that it would be a bit cramped for two.”

“You didn’t think it was cramped the other day.”

Killian scoffed. “The bruise on my back would argue otherwise, love.” They spent an evening up on the nearby ridge, making out like horny teenagers. Making out inevitably led to other things, hence the bruise on his back from her stick shift.

“What? Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was a bit preoccupied, Swan.”

She blushed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I love every moment we have together.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Only for you, my love.” Killian tipped her face up, pressing his lips to hers. She mewled into it, her fingers curling into his shirt. The kiss deepened, lips parting, tongues swirling as Emma climbed into her lover’s lap.

They paused to breathe, noses brushing, hands stroking gently. “Think we should break in the tub?” she murmured, lips sliding over his scruffy jaw.

“Hell yes.” She yelped as he moved to stand, quickly locking her ankles around his waist. They laughed happily as he carried her to the bathroom, more than ready to start the next chapter of their journey together.


End file.
